


one in five

by Linneamful



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Getting Together, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Panic Attacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-11
Updated: 2019-09-11
Packaged: 2020-10-14 19:07:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20605826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Linneamful/pseuds/Linneamful
Summary: Slowly, Kei began to see the signs - in the hallway light, Kuroo’s sweat-soaked skin was eerily pale; his breathing was rapid and shallow; his entire being shook, though the night air was far warmer than usual for the late autumn; every muscle in his body was drawn taught, his hands clamped in white-knuckle fists at his side; and his adam’s apple bobbed dangerously frequently, as if his salivary glands were in overdrive.This, Kei knew. This, he was intimately familiar with, having descended down the same dark path many, many times. He could help with this. It wasn’t comfort, not really, not in the sense of comfort Kei thought Kuroo had needed earlier, alone in the dark where he needed reassuring words and empathetic musings. This was more basic, more instinctual. Fight or flight.“Kuroo,” Kei said, keeping his voice level and low. “Are you having a panic attack?”





	one in five

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Discussion of mental illness, detailed description of panic attacks
> 
> Additionally, I won't share them here as there are so many locations/options, but if you ever need help finding mental health resources, shoot me a message. I'm happy to help however I can.

Kei entered the gym, the faintest glimmer of excitement quickening his heartbeat as he looked for the inky black hair poking up from the other side of the net, but instead, he was greeted with Bokuto’s spiky stripes and a shout of, “Hey hey hey!”

The blonde didn’t bother to respond before turning on his heels and marching straight back to the dorms.

_ <<< 7:58 p.m.:  _ _ Where are you? _

Kuroo never skipped practice; that was certain, one of the few constants Kei could find in the volleyball world. Bokuto was loud, the idiot duo were infuriating, and Kuroo was  _ always _ at personal practice. The younger teen tried to chalk his frustration up to worry alone - something must be wrong for Kuroo to ghost out on evening practice, especially when he’d all but strong-armed Kei into participating. But another part of Kei, something quieter and much younger than he allowed himself to appear, whispered sentiments of disappointment, rejection,  _ hurt.  _

“Tch.” Tsukishima quickly schooled his face into something far more contentious, as if daring his teammates to approach as he passed by the gym in which they practiced. They didn’t. 

He was back to the dorms, almost to his bed, when his phone buzzed in his pocket, and out of pure pettiness, he almost didn’t look. He’d been left hanging, so why bother providing a response in return?

His thumb pressed on the message, though, and his stomach twisted involuntarily as he saw his crush’s name pop up on the screen. 

_ >>> Kuroo Tetsurou, 8:07 p.m.:  _ _ 201 _

Hazel eyes darted to the room numbers around him, his eyes fixing on the sign, “218,” posted just outside the nearest door. Quietly- nervously- Kei passed the Karasuno room, his steps providing quiet thuds as he neared the deserted dead end of a hallway and glanced at the door to the left. His knuckles poised to knock, but his phone buzzed before they made it against the metal door.

_ >>> Kuroo Tetsurou, 8:09 p.m.:  _ _ You don’t need to knock. _

Tsukishima eked the door open, his eyes unseeing as they adapted to the immediate darkness, his gaze clinging to the small dome of light surrounding Kuroo- a dim phone screen scrolling too quickly for any information to be gleaned. Slowly, everything came into focus, his pupils resizing to meet the dimness around him. Kuroo was laying on his side, tense and silent, and his gaze darted briefly to Kei.

The older teen offered a hesitant wave, but Kei remained unmoving, his legs frozen as he tried to process the scene before him. It wasn’t until Kuroo’s fingers beckoned him inwards that he realized he was letting unwelcome hallway light permeate the room, and finally, he inched forward and closed the door with the quietest possible click. 

Kei settled cross-legged on the ground in front of Kuroo, and it was only in the closeness that he could really  _ see.  _ Wet tears clung to his long, dark eyelashes, and his brown irises were much dimmer than when he stared down Tsukki from across the net, now too obscured by a painful pink to carry any of the fire the blonde knew so well. He looked fragile, as if one nudge, one miniscule force, in the wrong direction could make him crumble. For once, Kei did not want to be that force. 

He wasn’t sure how long they sat there, Kuroo’s eyes still welling with tears and Kei’s darting anywhere and everywhere to avoid meeting  _ that _ gaze. He wasn’t good at this; it wasn’t that he didn’t want to comfort Kuroo, to wipe away the hurt splayed so plainly on his face, but he didn’t know  _ how. _ He’d never known how. Out of all of the skills he possessed, this situation was undoubtedly one for which he was  _ not  _ equipped. 

Only their breathing broke the silence, Kei’s steady inhales providing a stark contrast to Kuroo’s ragged gasps. The Nekoma captain shifted slightly, stretching a tense arm out behind his head, towards Tsukki, while his other arm wrapped more securely around his own stomach, slowly curling further into himself. 

The white-knuckled fist provided an unspoken opportunity, one Kei was certain was unintentional, and after a moment of internal deliberation, his own long fingers reached out, curling around the raven-haired boy’s. Their eyes met briefly, nervousness and gratitude coming together, and both boys relaxed slightly at the knowledge that this was okay. Carefully, Tsukishima loosened Kuroo’s tightly clenched grip and intertwined the distressed boy’s fingers with his own. He squeezed gently, his calloused fingertips pressing lightly into Kuroo’s equally calloused palms. The small, heartrending smile he received let him know that this was the right choice. 

Neither teen moved, content to stay like this until the spell broke on its own, but Kei’s mind continued to race. The Kuroo he knew was full of sass; was sarcastic and jovial and didn’t have a sad bone in his body; was unbreakable. And even if he did break, he wouldn’t go to Kei. He had Kenma, his own Yamaguchi, who knew him inside and out and would be able to coax him through much more easily than the emotionally incompetent Kei. Why the hell was Kei here, and where was Kenma?

As if on cue, a sneeze was heard from the hallway, but there was no room for curiosity, as the door quickly creaked open to reveal the semi-blonde setter, a very full plate in one hand and his phone in the other. “Dinner.”

Kenma’s knowing gaze scanned the pair, darting from Kuroo’s tear-streaked face to their interlocked hands to Tsukishima’s faintly pink cheeks with alarming precision. Finally, with a hum, he settled down next to them, eyes now focused on nothing in particular, refusing to meet Tsukishima’s gaze. “Are you two hungry?”

The pair answered in unison. “No.”

“You should eat, Tsukki,” Kuroo murmured hoarsely, and for an instant, Kei thought it was a joke, but one look at his friend’s eyes, and he knew he wasn’t being playful. “We played, like, five games today. You’ve got to put something in your system.”

“So do you,” Kenma’s deep voice answered in Kei’s place, knowing eyes shifting to his friend. 

Kuroo answered too quickly, a hollow grin on his face. His eyes trailed to his free hand, and he pulled at the loose skin around his thumbnail with his teeth. “I’m fine.”

“Kuro.”

Kenma said his name softly, but Kei could hear an unspoken question underneath, something private and apparently obvious to Kuroo, as a watery  _ please  _ slipped from his lips, surprising Kei immensely. More surprising still was Kenma’s small nod and the shift of the plate away from Kuroo in an obvious sign of acceptance. “Go. I’ll cover for you.”

“Thank you.” It was scarcely more than a whisper, but it was enough, and Kuroo shakily got to his feet, shocking Kei when he extended a hand to him as well, a silent request hiding in his dark eyes. Kei accepted silently, and he kept his hand in Kuroo’s, squeezing slightly as he was led towards the door.

Once outside of the room, Kuroo’s hands immediately brushed through his already messy hair. In this moment, he looked nothing like the confident volleyball captain Kei had always seen. No, here in the dark with red-rimmed eyes and hoarse whispers, he looked his age; there was no sarcasm, no false bravado, no mischievous smirk. He was a teenager, a kid, and he was afraid. 

Slowly, Kei began to see the signs - in the hallway light, Kuroo’s sweat-soaked skin was eerily pale; his breathing was rapid and shallow; his entire being shook, though the night air was far warmer than usual for the late autumn; every muscle in his body was drawn taught, his hands clamped in white-knuckle fists at his side; and his adam’s apple bobbed dangerously frequently, as if his salivary glands were in overdrive. 

This, Kei knew. This, he was intimately familiar with, having descended down the same dark path many, many times. He could help with this. It wasn’t comfort, not really, not in the sense of comfort Kei thought Kuroo had needed earlier, alone in the dark where he needed reassuring words and empathetic musings. This was more basic, more instinctual. Fight or flight. 

“Kuroo,” Kei said, keeping his voice level and low. His hands almost brushed the older boy’s shoulders, but he quickly returned them to his sides.  _ Only do things you  _ know  _ won’t make it worse.  _ Instead, he pressed on steadily, the gentle tone coming out naturally as a result of years of practice. “Are you having a panic attack?”

Hesitantly, his chest heaving, Kuroo nodded, and Kei hummed in response. “Have you had one before?” Another nod. “Can you tell me what you need right now?”

“Ou- outside.” 

Kei guided Kuroo through the empty halls, intentionally veering away from anywhere other players might be stationed until the pair found themselves outdoors, enveloped by the endless starry sky. Along the way, his resolve not to touch Kuroo for fear of making things worse crumbled, and he slowly took on more and more of his friend’s weight as shaking knees and dizziness stole Kuroo’s independent mobility. 

Finally at the at the peak of the hill behind the gym, the pair settled in the damp grass. Kei’s arm remained firm around Kuroo’s waist, but Kuroo’s slipped from his shoulders, instead bundling around his knees as he drew them to his chest, and Kei settled in next to him, startling a cricket from the grass at his feet. 

“Breathe,” Kei commanded softly. “In for four, out for four. Let’s give it a try.”

His eyes scanned the raven-haired boy’s form, trying to find some indication that Kuroo could hear him, could process anything Kei had said. There was no response, his face buried in his knees and his fingers tugging at his hair and producing small tufts of black hair that fluttered off in the wind.

“Here,” Tsukki said softly, digging through the gym bag still at his hip and producing a palm-sized dinosaur figurine, a blush he knew Kuroo wouldn’t notice creeping up his neck and settling in his cheeks and ears. He forced it into the other boy’s hands, gently detaching them from his hair in the process. “To, uh, fidget with. So you don’t- Just to keep your hands busy.”

Eyes wide, Kuroo accepted it, squeezing the rigid plastic tightly against his palms; he buried his face again, but one arm stayed loose, turning the toy over and over in his palm. Kei inched closer to him then, pushing himself hip to hip, shoulder to shoulder, with the taller teen and finally resting an open palm on his friend’s back. “Kuroo, I’m going to take some deep breaths. Try to make your breathing match mine.”

His palm shifted up and down the other’s spine, gentle and rhythmic in reassurance, and the pair stayed in almost-silence, the only sounds filling the air coming from the last of the cicadas who had yet to succumb to the autumn chill and from Kuroo as he gasped for air. 

Slowly-  _ painfully  _ slowly, Kei knew- the rise and fall of Kuroo’s chest evened out, becoming steady and metered, if a bit forced, and Kei began to speak again, ensuring his hand kept the same careful rhythm. “How are you doing?” 

“Why... “ Kuroo choked, swallowing thickly, and Kei shifted his fingers into rubbing circular motions against the other’s tee. “Why do you have a plastic dinosaur in your bag?”

“I have seven plastic dinosaurs in my bag.”

Kuroo snorted into his folded arms, and he swallowed again before he spoke the shaky words. “Why do you have seven plastic dinosaurs in your bag?”

Kei gulped, and he closed his eyes for a brief moment. He didn’t talk about this. He  _ never _ talked about this. “I have panic disorder. They help.” 

He doesn’t bother to explain the history, that as much as he had rescued Yamaguchi, Yamaguchi had rescued him in return, shoving the first figurine in his hand at his eighth birthday party when somewhere between presents and party games, Kei had holed himself up in his own closet, certain he was going to die. He’d given Kei one for every birthday since, always alone and without fanfare, and Kei kept them all. 

“I had no idea.” 

Kei could tell the worst had passed, that Kuroo was coming back to his steady-state; Kuroo had uncurled from his knees, instead settling semi-curled on his side, seemingly unphased by the dew seeping through his shirt. With Kuroo now fully facing him, the blonde shifted his palm from Kuroo’s shoulder into his crazy bedhead ‘do, casually dragging his fingers through the still-sweaty black hair. “Kozume didn’t tell you?” 

“Kenma knew?”

With a soft hum, Kei nodded. “Last training camp, he… found me.” The memory was still vivid in spite of the dense fog of panic that had enshrouded him. 

\----------

_ His chest was on fire, and black spots danced across the image of his spinning world. He couldn’t catch his breath, couldn’t feel his limbs; he could only feel the need for more air, the absolute certainty that he was drowning above ground less in a lightless, airless vacuum, Yamaguchi nowhere to be found and his gym bag and phone abandoned in the Kurasuno quarters. He was drenched in sweat, curled against the wall with shaking hands and shallow breaths, and his head tucked between his knees in an attempt to stave off the inevitable realization of the nausea balled in his gut. _

_ His breathing grew faster and faster, no amount of air sufficient to satisfy his mind’s certainty that there wasn’t enough. He choked on a breath, his mouth suddenly unsure if it should inhale or exhale as the two blended together into nothing more than a diaphragmatic twitch. He coughed, and he coughed, and hot tears eked out of the corners of his eyes, and he didn’t care because  _ he couldn’t breath _ , and eventually the coughing reached his stomach, providing just enough force to dredge up the small dinner he’d eaten and deposit it unceremoniously around him, droplets splattering against his bare legs that he wouldn’t realize were there until he made it to the showers almost an hour later.  _

_ A warm presence settled inches away from him on the cold floor, a firm voice warning him to breathe slower, providing a steady reminders to breathe in through his nose and a Rubiks cube keyring to guide him back to the cool ceramic-tiled floor, flickering fluorescent lights, and a faded sign that proclaimed the pair were sitting just outside Kominato-sensei’s chemistry lab.  _

_ As the adrenaline slowly faded, he became more aware of the presence beside him and glanced over to see two-toned hair, a red jacket, and small hands that tapped furiously away at some mobile game. Kenma never looked over at Kei, but he waited until the blonde’s breathing had stabilized completely before quietly asking, “Are you okay to go back to your room?” _

_Kei nodded shortly, anxiety once again twisting in his gut as he realized that this might be _the moment_, the instance in time that would shred his well-accepted harshness and instead create a bed of eggshells around him for others to avoid. The other shoe had to drop eventually._

_ The pair wordlessly went their separate ways, and Kei settled into his futon that night prepared to answer a barrage of questions that never came. _

\----------

“Kenma gets it,” Kuroo said softly, eyes closed and body still trembling. “He has social anxiety - don’t worry, he’s okay with people knowing - so he knows what it’s like. He wouldn’t expose you like that.” 

Kei nodded, having already surmised most of Kuroo’s information. Yamaguchi understood too, with his own mental health struggles, but like Kei, he was much more private about it.

“I- I won’t either,” Kuroo added softly, finally cracking his eyes open to look at Kei. Kei could see the fear in them, the unspoken question hanging in the air. 

Kei offered him a small smile, giving his hair a gentle tug. “Believe it or not, I don’t spend my days talking about  _ you _ . It’ll never come up.”

Kuroo nodded, edging closer to Kei until he was all but wrapped around him, Kei’s fingers running reassuringly through his hair and over his shoulders. They both knew what he meant, and that was good enough. “Thanks.”

Kei hummed, and the pair stayed like that until Kuroo fully stilled, only soft snores moving his body. Kei nudged him gently. “Are you ready to go back?”

Kuroo nodded against his side, and the pair dragged themselves to their feet, Kuroo’s legs still wobbly. Kei wrapped his arm around his waist again, offering support, and they stayed that way until they arrived outside of Nekoma’s room, where Kei detached himself. Kuroo’s hand squeezed his shoulder as they parted, and he offered a small smile. 

Before he could speak, Kei nodded, and the pair separated in silence. 

\----------

The next day, Kuroo missed the morning practice games, and Kei couldn’t decide if he was disappointed or relieved. He wanted to see Kuroo, now more than ever, but he was also glad that the idiot was taking some time to recover. 

It wasn’t until he saw Kenma slipping quietly out of the dining hall that he knew there was a way to check in, and he followed quietly, only calling out the other’s name when he was certain no one else would hear. “Kozume.”

The pudding-headed setter tensed, and Kei approached him knowingly, making a conscious effort not to invade his space. “Are you taking that to Kuroo?”

The setter nodded, his eyes refusing to meet Kei’s but still so full of understanding that Kei felt a blush creep up his cheeks. “Can I…?”

Kenma nodded again, and he held the plate out to Kei, who took it quickly with a quiet thanks. It wasn’t until they began to part that he finally heard Kenma’s voice. “Take good care of him.”

Kei hummed softly in response, his legs already carrying him towards the makeshift dorms, knocking softly when he arrived at 201. When no answer came, Kei eased the door open, sliding into the room before bothering to take stock of his surroundings. The room was bright today, the sun seeping in from every window and making the room feel brighter than any classroom he’d ever been in. He noticed the messy futons of the Nekoma boys, everything scattered about and vaguely smelly, not unlike Karasuno’s dorms. Finally, his eyes settled on the sleeping form in the last futon, quiet snores mingling with the birds chirping outside. 

More gently than he otherwise would have, Kei pressed his shoed foot against Kuroo’s ribs, startling a gasp out of the apparently light sleeper. “Food.”

A sleepy hum was the response, and Kuroo pulled himself upright with a groan, his hand extending under his t-shirt to scratch his far-too-visible-for-Tsukki’s-sanity stomach. Finally, he cracked a golden eye open, and his hand froze, abdominal muscles still exposed. “Oh. You’re not Kenma.”

“Congratulations, your observation skills have exceeded those of an infant.” 

“Well, aren’t you rude as fuck this morning,” Kuroo answered, a cheshire grin filling his face but stopping at his lips, leaving a wariness in his eyes as he observed Tsukishima. 

Kei could physically  _ feel _ the trepidation emitting from Kuroo in waves, and he frowned. The anxiety ‘hangover’ wasn’t going to be shaken so easily. Instead of commenting, Tsukishima planted himself cross-legged on the ground with an exaggerated eye-roll, forcing the plate into Kuroo’s hands. “Eat.”

“I’m not usually hungry when I wake up,” Kuroo answered flatly, and Kei’s deadpan stare was more than enough of a response. His gaze made the message clear:  _ I’ve seen you come into the dining hall half-asleep and eat three full plates of food without stopping to breathe. Try again _ . “Fine, I’m not usually hungry the day after, uh-”

He trailed off, and his eyes fixed on blanket still covering his thighs; Tsukishima studied him, watching as Kuroo’s shoulders rose slightly, as his fingers twisted in knots on his lap. Tsukishima took the tray, setting it aside, and instead plucked the small bowl of steamed rice from the center and planted it in Kuroo’s hands. “Eat the rice.”

Kuroo did.

The pair sat in relative silence, Kuroo’s chopsticks clinking against porcelain and Kei’s fingernails plucking at the chipping tile on the floor, emanating quiet crunches as pieces of ceramic broke into smaller and smaller fragments. Neither boy met the other’s eyes, and after twenty minutes, Kuroo had finished and Tsukishima was gathering the dishes, preparing to go down for the rest of the day’s practice games. 

He moved to stand, but Kuroo’s calloused hand wrapped around his wrist, gentle in spite of the firm grip. “Hey, um. Thanks. For yesterday. You really, uh- I really- I’m really glad you were there.”

“Why me?” The question escaped unbidden, and Tsukishima’s eyes widened at his own words; he scrambled to recover. “I’m not exactly the feelings-type, you know.”

Kuroo snorted and flopped back on his futon; he wouldn’t look at Tsukishima. “Would you accept, ‘Because my therapist said so,’ as an answer?”

“If it answered the question, yes, but as your therapist shouldn’t be expected to know who I am, it doesn’t and I won’t.”

“I like you, Tsukki. Tsukishima.  _ Kei _ .” Kuroo’s eyes remained focused on the ceiling, tracing a crack in the popcorn finishing that ran the length of the room. “You’re snarky and savage and sharp, but under it all, you’re good. You’re so, so good, and you try to hide it, but I  _ see  _ it, and I know it’s true, even when you don’t. I’ve liked you since our first fucking conversation, but I didn’t think it’d be fair to ask you to date me and then drop the mental illness bomb on you. I mean, can you imagine? ‘Hey, Kei, yeah, thanks for dating me and I can’t wait to talk to you and spend time with you. By the way, I was diagnosed with depression when I was fourteen and I was coping okay, but then my dad ditched my family six months ago and now I’m basically a father of four while my mom tries to make enough to pay the bills and the pressure of my family, school, volleyball, and a part-time job is so overwhelming that I feel like I’m drowning and the smallest catalyst can send me into full-blown panic. Good luck dealing with me with that.’ 

“I talked to my therapist about it, and she basically told me to stop making decisions on your behalf and get your actual input before I decided you’d never want to be with someone as screwed up as I am, so I decided that this camp would be it. I was going to come clean.

“I didn’t expect it to happen like this, though. I wanted to confess at the end of camp, and it was going to be romantic as fuck, and I was going to  _ tell _ you all of that without you seeing it, but my little sister called because I wasn’t home to tuck her in, and she asked me if I was leaving like dad did, and then it happened and you were there, and somehow you knew all the right things to do, and you actually get it, and I just-

There was a brief pause, and Kuroo’s eyes widened as he realized all he’d said.

“ _ Fuck _ . Sorry, I shouldn’t have- Shit. You, uh, don’t have to answer. Actually, please don’t. Just go back to practice, and I’ll stay here and drown in my own embarrassment and then tomorrow we can pretend nothing in the last two days happened, and it’ll be great.”

Tsukishima counted three breaths in the entire tirade, and he could feel the heat rushing up his neck to the tips of his ears. Kuroo was still determinedly not looking at him, his eyes still moving in a linear path along the ceiling crack. Kei studied him for a long, awkward moment, and then he did the unthinkable. He snorted. “You’re an idiot.”

Kuroo groaned in response, not bothering to speak as he flipped onto his stomach and buried his face between his pillows, and he tensed when Kei’s hand inevitably found its way into his raven bedhead. He glanced up, cautious.

““First of all, one in five teens struggles with some sort of mental illness. You’re not that different. Second-” Kei cleared his throat, cheeks flaming but holding his gaze, “Do you really believe that I am so altruistic that I would spend what precious little alone time I can get at these camps jumping blocks for you or bringing you lunch if I didn’t like you,  _ Tetsurou _ ?”

Kuroo blinked once. Twice. Thrice. Then, slowly, an honest to god smile bloomed on his face, and it was something Kei had never seen before but was certainly something he could get lost in for hours. Then, with a sudden tug, Kuroo drew him tightly to his chest, all warmth and tenderness. Kei felt something warm drip on his ear. “Are you crying?”

“Not answering that,” Kuroo laughed, and he buried his face in Tsukishima’s hair. After a moment, he stilled. “Are you sure? After everything I said, is this really something-”

“I’m sure. Are you?”

“Absolutely.”

They stayed curled around each other in Tetsurou’s futon for the rest of the day with Tsukishima feigning a migraine to avoid the afternoon games. They talked about nothing and everything, and if Kei left a single plastic dinosaur in Kuroo’s care, no one else needed to know.

**Author's Note:**

> So... Truth be told, I've worked on this for months. I have OCD, but I have never had a panic attack; I've spent hours upon hours researching, so if I took a wrong turn anywhere or missed the mark, please let me know!
> 
> I've thought about adding a second chapter of them in an established relationship, the first time Kuroo is there for Tsukki when he hits a bad spot, but I'm not decided. I don't want to do anything repetitive.


End file.
